Chronim
by Excelsium
Summary: In a quantum twist of events during the Battle of Manhattan, Kronos accidentally sends himself back in time to 1995 Scotland, just in time for Harry's fifth year. Severely weakened, he must contend with the wizarding world until he is able to correct his timeframe. Meanwhile, Voldemort gets all the more desperate to kill Harry Potter, but he meets an unexpected obstacle in the way.
1. I

"A mere demigod," I scoff, "has no chance at defeating a god, no less a titan."

I raise my scythe. Finally, I shall end that insufferable demigod, Percy Jackson. He and his friends have been a pain in the neck for too long. Their exploits have delayed my ultimate conquest of Olympus for Chaos knows how long. Despite their efforts, I have reached Olympus. Today will be their final demise.

I swing the scythe down in a deadly arc, relishing the fear in Jackson's eyes as he realizes that this is the end. Suddenly, instead of biting into soft, vulnerable flesh, my blade meets the hilt of a bronze dagger. I growl. "Percy Jackson's little girlfriend," I say, "How pleasant to see you here."

The girl grunts. "Please," she whispers.

She had better not be trying to manipulate my host. "Girl," I snarl, "it would be _wise_ of you to stay quiet, lest you incur some… unintended consequences."

"Luke," she groans in exertion, "I know you're in there somewhere. Please, stop this."

I can feel Luke inside, fighting for control. My vision begins to flicker. I see the girl looking at me hopefully. "Annabeth," my body gasps, "d-dagger."

For a moment, I am confused. Why would Luke ask for her dagger? I cease struggling for dominance, curious to see how this would pan out. After a heated debate, the girl gives my body the dagger.

Suddenly, revelation strikes me. Luke has turned traitorous.

With as much energy I can muster, I force Luke from control, letting loose a blast of titanic energy. The marble pillars supporting the ceiling of the throne room begin crumbling. Chunks of rock rain down, one such knocking me off my feet. I remain unharmed, although I cannot say the same for some of the thrones.

I laugh. "See what you've done, idiotic demigods! The thrones of your parents crumble around you as I speak! Finally, my conquest of Olympus is complete."

I wave my hand. A mist image of Typhon appears. 12 streaks of light whirl around him. A flash of blue, followed by a thunderclap loud enough to be heard on Olympus, strikes Typhon.

"Zeus' master bolt," the girl says in awe. Typhon reels on his feet, and collapses face-first into the Hudson. Gargantuan celestial-bronze chains rope around Typhon, dragging him into the Hudson.

I growl, and swipe my hand through the mist. I turn to face Jackson, and see him on his father's throne. He must have been the one to call for aid from his father.

"DIE, JACKSON," I scream, sending a bolt of pure power at him.

Instinctively, he raises his sword, deflecting the blast-

\- straight at me. I swing my scythe, attempting to block it, but it was too late. The blast rips through my body, somehow finding my Achilles' heel. I feel my host take control of my now dying host-body. He manages a weak smile at the demigods, the girl in particular. Growling in frustration, I fall into unconsciousness.

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I wake up, sprawled out inside a crater, in a forest clearing. My body feels as if I had just puked out Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades five times over. I groggily stumble to my feet. I sense my scythe lying to my left, in its own mini-crater.

I hold out my hand, summoning the scythe to me. When it meets my hand, it transforms into a pure gold Rolex, slipping nimbly onto my wrist.

I stand up. This isn't Tartarus.

I try to flash out to Mount Othrys, but I slam into a barrier along the way, getting knocked onto my back in the process. I sense ancient, intricate magic around me, preventing me from getting out. This had better not be another portion of Zeus' trickery. At my normal power level, I could easily break the barrier and level half the forest in the process, however I am currently nowhere near my normal power level.

"Curse Jackson," I mumble, "Curse the Fates. Curse whichever damned piece of filth put this barrier here in the first place." I struggle to my feet, resigning myself to exploring my whereabouts until I regain my energy.

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It has been barely an hour, and my feet already scream in agony. I chuckle sardonically. Right now, I'm probably as weak a mortal.

I keep walking. The trees become sparser with each step I take. Suddenly, the woods end.

For a second, I glimpse a gargantuan castle in the distance, with orange light shining from all its windows. A lake glitters near the castle, with numerous rowboats floating atop. Then, a humongous branch hits me, and I black out.


	2. II

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I wake up lying on a smooth, springy bed. An aroma of pine needles drift across the room, filling it with its delightful scent. I hear voices muttering, and decide to ever-so-slightly crack open my eyes. I appear to be lying in an infirmary. Candles dot the walls, which are also adorned with high stained-glass windows. Inwardly cursing my carelessness, I close my eyes, while still remaining awake.

I hear a door creak open and closed.

"Merlin's beard," I hear a voice mutter, "what kind of wizard is this man? Is he dark?"

"The Whomping Willow broke a main branch on him," a falsely sugary voice says, "Cornelius, I hate to say this, but he may be a threat."

"Even if he is, what can we do?" the man known as Cornelius says, "throw him into Azkaban for simply wandering onto the premises?"

"I'm not suggesting that," the sickly sweet voice says, "I'm simply saying that he should be watched carefully. Assign a few Aurors to him, possibly a dementor or two, and he will definitely be suppressed."

"Dolores, I do believe you are simply overreacting," a new voice joins the conversation, "After all, look at how young he is. Barely a fifth year."

I mentally groan, as I remember I'm still in my host body, albeit battered and bruised. Way to put a limit on my power, Fates.

"Hem hem, Albus, I do believe I have the ultimate auth-"

"Albus is right, Dolores," Cornelius says, "the Willow probably hit him in the wrong angle, causing the break. There is no reason to put constraints on him which would make even the Dark Lord quail."

Upon hearing the final three words, I decide to open my eyes. My eyes flash a brilliant gold for half a second, momentarily encompassing the room in a bright golden glow. When it fades, I see everyone looking at me.

I open my mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. Bah, stupid demigod physical limits. I clear my throat and try again.

"Where am I?" My voice comes out as a hoarse croak. Pitiful.

A wizened old fellow with a waist-length beard gives a hearty chuckle. "Welcome to Hogwarts," he spreads his arms, "the school for Witchcraft and Wizardry."

I snort. "Be serious with me now, wizard, where am I?" I ask, exasperated, "You can't expect me to buy that. Nobody would name anything important after a pig disease."

The wizard did not reply, instead staring at me with a twinkle in his eye.

I groan. "This is really named Hogwarts?"

He nods.

"And where is this 'Hogwarts' of yours?" I ask further.

"Why we are currently in…" he furrows his eyebrows, as if trying to remember. His face lights up, "Skirtland!"

"Scotland," a pudgy old man corrects.

"Ah, yes, Cornelius, Scotland," the aged wizard says, "Anyhow, back to the point. Any more questions?"

I smirk. "No," I say, "I'll be going now. Thanks."

I try to flash from the room, only to encounter the Chaos-forsaken barrier blocking me. I growl in frustration, trying with all my (currently meagre) might to disrupt the barrier. Blinding golden light again fills up the room, but I pay no heed as I strain to escape from my metaphysical bounds.

As if it was mocking me, the barrier barely holds steadfast. I scream in frustration, but it doesn't give way. This is hopeless. By all normal means, the barrier would already have been broken, but this one somehow stays together.

My body ceases glowing, but I can still see the looks of astonishment on the wizards' faces. The squat lady in pink furiously squeaks unintelligibly. The pudgy man in the striped suit had his jaw to the floor.

The old wizard looks at me expectantly, through his half-moon spectacles. "Well?" he asks. For the first time in several millennia, hot embarrassment courses through my face, turning it bright gold.

"Technical difficulties," I mumble. I am saved from having to explain more by a screeching sound emanating from a pink toad-like object in the room.

I just barely make out the words:

"What is the meaning of this! Send him to Azkaban!" she shrieks, "Feed him to the dementors! The school year begins next week and we can't have him amongst the students!"

This time, the pudgy man, who I assume is called 'Cornelius', didn't reply. The pink woman sees me observing her curiously, and shrieks some more.

"Why you little," she says, suddenly brandishing a fancy stick, "STUPEFY!"

A glowing red beam of light shoots from her stick, straight at me. Curious to which degree of power she possesses, I meticulously shift to the side, just enough so that the bolt would glance off my shoulder but not do any serious harm.

Unfortunately, the old wizard snaps to life and draws his own pointy stick. "IMPEDIMENTA!" he yells, as a beam of white energy shoots from his stick. It collides with the red spell and sends both spells ricocheting off the walls.

Obviously incensed, the old wizard turns to the pink woman. "Dolores," he fumes, "you do NOT ATTACK MY STUDENTS! ESPECIALLY NOT ONE IN THE HOSPITAL WING!"

"Hem hem," she glares, "Albus, he's not your student until he gets sorted! I daresay he doesn't even know who we are or what we do!"

I clear my throat. "I'm right here, witch," I say.

"WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?" she turns pink and screams screams. I raise my eyebrows. So much for stating the obvious. Mentally, I sigh inside. If not for my currently weakened state, I would have incinerated all of them by now. As for now, though, I suppose I have to put up as best as I can, and be thankful I'm not in Tartarus again.

I blink at her. "Why a witch, of course. What else shall I call you? Are you not a witch?"

The lady turns even pinker, almost matching her abhorrent outfit. "I am Dolores Jane Umbridge, and you will refer to me as Ma'am or Professor Umbridge."

I raise my eyebrows. "I'm not a student at whichever institution you wizards are talking about. I will certainly not call you 'Ma'am' or 'Professor'. Witches with outbursts like the one you just had shouldn't even be teaching Laestrygonians, much less… whatever miserable life form you people are," I retort.

Umbridge looks as if she was ready to burst a blood vessel. "We are the grand Ministry of Magic, a conglomerate of wizards and witches dedicated to excellence and advancement. Certainly better from whichever hellhole you came out of."

Oh, the irony. If she only knew I came from _the_ hellhole. The flames from the candles in the infirmary suddenly flare up and take a slightly darker and redder hue, as if Tartarus himself felt insulted.

Inwardly, I groan again. If not for the ancient laws, I would have unleashed my scythe at her. Such a pity her spell didn't hit me: makes things a whole lot more complicated.

I narrow my eyes, glaring at her. "Watch your mouth, foolish mortal. Names hold power."

As if she was insulted (hey, I was merely stating fact), Umbridge takes out her wand again, but this time I am prepared for it. I look at her, straight in the eyes, daring her to do it. She opens her mouth, and begins waving her stick around, when suddenly, the door slams open. A stout woman in nurses' garb bustles in with a tray, which she nearly drops in surprise and anger.

She begins screaming at all three in the room, for "disturbing the patient when he needs his rest the most." I half expect her to be blasted with a spell by Umbridge, what with her short temper and all.

Surprisingly, that doesn't happen. The three are pushed out of the room without much of a fight.

The nurse hurries over to me and thrusts the tray in my hands. Vials of brightly glowing liquids lie neatly on the tray.

"Am I supposed to drink that?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "Not now," she says, "only when you're feeling very weak. Ordinary potions didn't work on you, so we applied for some otherwise forbidden potions from St. Mungo's. These are meant for the most powerful beings, and are enchanted by the best healers known to wizardry. A drop of this can incinerate a regular mortal. Take ONLY when you are in deep pain."

I nod. The lady seemed mellow enough. For a moment, I am reminded of Gaia, a good many millennia ago. I inwardly sigh: thinking of the good old days also reminded me when I was in power.

I mentally slap myself: I must focus on the task at hand. I look at the potions in front of me. The nurse warned about their strength, however she must have assumed my power level being that of a slightly powerful wizard, not one of a titan.

I thank the woman.

"Just yell if you need anything," she smiles, and bustles out of the room.

I sigh, rubbing my forehead. The feeling of helplessness once again grips me. I am confined to this uber-confusing place until I regain my power and break this chaos-forsaken barrier.

A flash suddenly illuminates the room. I blink.

When the light dies, I see three wrinkled old ladies, standing hunched in front of me. I inwardly groan. The Fates are here.

"Atropos, Clotho, and Lachesis," I growl, "how nice to see you here, grandchildren." Hopefully, they would be in the helping mood. If not, I can always incinerate them.

Atropos looks around, somewhat nervously. "Father has forbidden us to help you," she croaks, "but we sense that it's not the end of the line for you yet."

I raise my eyebrows. "What do you mean, Atropos? Certainly Zeus would sense you here. If he has truly forbidden you to help me, why are you not a heaping pile of ashes in front of me?"

"Father is distracted. Hera has gone missing, and he's raving in anger right now. He forgot about us for the time being, but we cannot be here for long," Clotho says, "Aside from that, you should know that we, as the fates, cannot lie. We can twist our words, but the ancient laws forbid us from outright lying."

I finger my chin. The ancient laws does in fact prohibit the fates from lying, but this means that every sentence may have a double meaning behind it.

I narrow my eyes. "So," I muse, "what do you have in store for me? Another millennium of hard labor?"

The fates throw their heads back and begin shaking with barely suppressed laughter.

"Unfortunately, no," Lachesis cackles, "Our master, Lady Chaos herself, ordered us to give you a little mission to redeem yourself. This is your mission."

I snort. "So that's what the barrier is there for?"

The fates laugh even more. "Precisely! However hard you try," Atropos grins, "you will not be able to break the restraints until you finish your assigned tasks. Then, Lady Chaos will release her hold on you, and you would be free to do as you wish."

I raise my eyebrows. This deal is too good to be true: at the very most, the tasks would take a few centuries: a blink of the eye when compared to the millennia of punishment I endured after the First Titan War. With the fates, there must be strings attached.

As if she read my mind, Lachesis continues. "There will be a catch. Your power level is currently drained to one of a minor god: still immensely powerful when compared to an ordinary wizard, but there is now a limit to your strength. I deem it a bit indulgent when compared to the tasks you must complete: a minor demigod power-level would do as well, but Atropos and Clotho are feeling merciful today."

I nod in acceptance. Still better than what happened last time. "So," I ask, "what are my tasks?"

The three ladies grow serious. Clotho clears her throat. "You have a total of 5 tasks to complete. If done correctly, you should be finished in about 3 and a half years' time. However, if not done correctly, there will be no second chances. You would have missed your opportunity at quick redemption, and will be sentenced to-"

"-Millennia of hard labor." I finish. Sometimes the fates are too predictable. Then again, you can't get much worse than a millennium of hard labor.

"Right," Atropos says, "now, my dear grandfather, here are your _wonderful_ tasks."

"As you will have noticed by now," she begins, "this is a sheltered enclave far, far away from any godly influence. I suppose you can say that it's its own little world. Lady Chaos and Hecate decided to have a bit of fun creating new worlds a few millennia ago, so they created wizards and witches. The community of wizards and witches slowly gained in complexity until it became a fully-fledged civilization. The wizards are all blessed with the ability to shoot bolts of power through little sticks called wands. In order to master this ability, however, they must attend one of the many wizarding schools in the world. You are currently in one: Hogwarts, the primary school for wizards in the United Kingdom."

"Essentially, what began first as a simple experiment done for kicks and giggles turned out to become a full-blown civilization," Clotho continues, "At first, Lady Chaos and Hecate wanted to flash them out of existence after they've had their fun, but they realized that doing so would kill tens of thousands. Instead, they decided to put a protective barrier around the community, allowing only those with their explicit permission to pass. Lady Chaos decided to place you here, and only let you out once you complete her tasks."

"The tasks are quite simple," Lachesis picks up from where Clotho left off, "There is a specific boy attending this 'Hogwarts', by the name of 'Harry Potter'. Lady Chaos feels that it is time to unify the Wizarding world with the rest of the universe, and she wants Potter to be the 'link' between the worlds. He is of crucial importance. However, this twisted wizard wants to kill this 'Potter'. He goes by the name of Tom Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort, The Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and You-Know-Who. He has no knowledge of you. Your first task is to protect Potter from this Riddle."

I give a hearty chuckle. "So are you saying that for the first of these tasks, I am supposed to protect an ignorant wizard from another ignorant wizard? Why should I not simply kill this 'Voldemort'? That would make things a whole lot simpler."

Lachesis shakes her head. "Lady Chaos wants him alive. You may harm him, but the harm must not be permanent."

I groan. "Always a catch, am I right?" I mutter.

"We have convinced Dumbledore, the old wizard you have previously seen who is also the headmaster for this school, to place you in Potter's House. We have also made arrangements for you to stay with Potter, who is currently staying with the Weasleys, until school starts. You will get your wand and all school materials, to ready you for the upcoming years," Clotho finishes.

"Are you telling me to go to _school_ with Potter?" I scoff. Just imagining it was hilarious. The titan lord of time, going to school with a bunch of pubescent teenagers. Atropos raises her eyebrows. "Do you want to keep your immortality?"

"Touche," I grumble. I mentally slap myself again. No matter how humiliating it will be for me to go to _school_ , I must bear with it until it is finished: anything would be better than undergoing what I went through after my first failure.

Atropos grins. "Excellent. Just drink those potions the nurse gave you and your energy will be restored."

I look at the tray on my chest dubiously. "All of it?" I ask. The nurse's warning still stuck fast: I'd rather not be incinerated. Better safe than sorry.

Clotho laughs, seemingly knowing the reason behind my anxiety. "The potion was meant for wizards. You're currently at the power-level of minor god: while not a Titan, you're still leagues above the rest. Chug it all, and let's get going."

I wearily get out of bed. Standing up, I down all the potions in one go. For a moment, a bitter taste invades my mouth. Then, my body begins humming with energy. Revitalized, I stride over to the Fates.

"Let's get going," I grin maniacally. They nod. "Remember not to kill Voldemort, however tempting that may be," Lachesis says.

Then, I see a bright flash and land heavily on my side, smashing through a wooden table laden with food. I remain unharmed, due to the Achilles' blessing still in effect somehow. I look up, and see a plethora of redheads, staring back at me.

"Who the bloody hell are you?"

"Ron! Language!"


	3. III

"Ron! Language!" a woman in her mid-forties yells. The boy who said it, a freckled abomination under the name of 'Ron', quailed under his mother's harsh gaze.

"Sorry mum," he muttered. The mother nods, and turns back to me, a murderous glare in her eyes. "Who do you think _you_ are, apparating in the middle of our lunch," she hisses, "Are you dark? Have you been sent here by You-Know-Who? Who are you?"

I raise my arms in mock protest. "For your information," I begin, "I wa-"

I didn't get a chance to finish when a chubby redhead, looking slightly older than the rest, steps up, brandishing his stick. The mother widens her eyes, and screeches, "Percy, not yet!"

"Relax, mum, I got this," Percy says before he points the stick at me.

"PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!" A white beam of light shoots out from his wand, directly at me. Too astonished to move, I lie still, bracing myself for impact. Let's see how powerful wizard spells are.

The hex strikes me, sending a lethargic feeling through my limbs. I try to move them, but to no avail. I gaze at Percy murderously, but inwardly smirk. Now would be the best time to test my capabilities. I growl, pouring godly strength into breaking the hold. Power surges through my limbs and I begin glowing bright gold. Concentrating, I reverse time for only my body, sending it back to the state it was in before Percy's spell hit me.

When the glow dies, I see everyone staring at me. "That's no wizard," a twin mumbles. I take advantage of the stunned silence, and ask, "Which one of you is Potter?"

There were gasps all around. "He's dark," the other twin bawls. Everybody whips out their stick and points it at me. I scoff. "Of course I'm not dark," I say, "just because I ask for Potter doesn't mean that I am."

"We don't believe you," bawls Ron, "why would you ask for Harry if you aren't?!"

I scoff again. "If I really was working for Voldemort, do you not think that I would have killed you lot by now?"

I am again met with stunned silence, although this time I do not know why. A teenager with jet black hair, glasses, and a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt on his forehead, steps up. The mother furiously waves him down, but he ignores her for the time being.

"I am Harry Potter," he says somewhat nervously, "who are you?" I am about to reply when he interrupts me. "I know you!" he exclaims, "you're the man in our dream!"

The family mutters in recognition. "For the past couple of nights, we've all been having these really strange dreams, of three old ladies telling us to accept you, I believe, when you come. They said something about titans and protection," Harry says.

I sigh, rubbing my temples. I'm going to have a lot of talking to do.

I wave my hand, sending the table back into the state it was in before I came crashing down. Platters of peas, roast chicken, cabbage, and all other sorts of vile mortal food were set, steaming on the table.

The mother sees me staring at the food. She smiles.

"Before we all dig in, let me introduce myself," she says, "I'm Molly Weasley. I take care of these people."

Ron stands up next. "I'm Ron Weasley, currently awaiting my fifth year at Hogwarts."

 _ **TIMESKIP: 5 MINS**_

Mrs. Weasley claps her hands, smiling. "Now that we've all introduced ourselves, would you like to tell us who you are?"

I nod nervously. Outside, I radiate confidence and power. Inside, I realize I'm trapped between Zeus' Master Bolt and Tartarus. If I tell them my true identity, word will get out and things would get much more complicated. If I don't… well… that might not be such a bad idea.

"My name is Vincent," I lie, "I'm a transfer student from Canada." Fred looks at me curiously. "Canada? Where's that?" he asks.

"It's next to Russia," I ad lib. Truth to be told, I haven't the slightest idea where either Russia or Canada is. I can sense my cover falling apart, but I keep a straight face. Luckily, Fred buys it and I continue: "My headmaster has sent me here to help protect Harry Potter. He briefed me on all the details, including about Riddle and his army."

"The Death Eaters," Harry whispers.

I nod to him, and continue. "My headmaster has also sent you some dreams forewarning of my arrival. I believe that was what you were referencing me as."

Ron laughs. " _Your Headmaster_ is a trio of old saggy ladies? By Merlin, what do you teach?" Mrs. Weasley begins glaring at him furiously when I explain. "Er… the three ladies are the council, who help the Headmaster in his decision making. They are the wisest of them all."

Ron sits back, seemingly satisfied with the explanation. Mrs. Weasley sits up. "Well, Vincent," she says, "I heartily welcome you to our table and family for as long as you stay. We'll also take you to Diagon Alley with the rest of us to get school supplies."

"Alright," she finishes, "dig in!"

She looks at me expectantly. The table is laden with a dang lot of food: roasted chicken, meatloaf, and every sort of mortal edible you can imagine is on the table. It's a miracle the rickety table didn't collapse.

I gulp. "You mortals," I rasp, "you eat… these?" I poke at a juicy portion of what mortals call a "steak". Even the thought of eating long-dead things is utterly repulsive.

"Well blimey, what the bloody hell do you expect us to eat? Dirt?" George snorts. He promptly gets a hard smack upside the head. "You do _not_ treat our guests this way, George! If he wants to eat dirt, you let him eat dirt and smile at him too! Understand?!" Mrs. Weasley hisses. George nods quickly.

I snort, waving my hand over my plate. It immediately transforms what was formerly cooked dead pig meat into glowing ambrosia. I munch down on it, sighing as the cool taste of mint and citrus flows through my mouth. For a moment, I forget I am here, instead reminded of the sweet time I spent running through the forest when I was only a 1 century-old, ignorant of the brutal reality of the universe.

Ginny scoots over. "What's that?" she asks. She tentatively reaches for an ambrosia cracker, but I stop her before she can touch it. Ordinarily, I would not be concerned with a mortal's well-being, but if the only girl in the family suddenly spontaneously combusts, I would have a hell of a lot of explaining to do. "You can't have these, they are too powerful for you. You might get overloaded," I tell her. She doesn't buy it.

"Awww," she pleads, "I'm strong enough. Please? I'm already in fourth year, and I'm going to graduate in 3 more years! I'm a big girl now." [( _ **A/N) Holy shit that sounds so cringy now that I think of it]**_ I shake my head, but already feel my inner defenses crumbling under her pleas. Ginny senses this and begins pouting and giving me the puppy eyes. I grit my teeth. No mortal will ever make me waver, although I can already feel the last of my resolve melting away. Stupid minor god endurance level.

A last "pweease" set it off for me. Groaning softly, I look towards Mrs. Weasley for permission. Oblivious, she nods. I quickly judge her power level, deeming it about one-third of ordinary demigod power. Carefully, I break off a chunk of ambrosia about as big as half my palm.

"Don't eat it all at once. Break off tiny crumbs, and it'll be just as good, if not even better," I warn her, partially because I want her to get the full experience, and also because I don't want her to die from sudden energy overload.

Ginny does so, and soon, her face lights up. Literally. A small moan escapes her lips. She smiles brightly at me. "Can I have more?" she beams. I snicker. "Any more, Ginny, and you'll burn up. Believe me."

I notice the others also staring at me, both in longing and curiosity. Sighing, I wave my hand, causing proportionate amounts of ambrosia to appear on everybody's plates.

There is much grunting and moaning in satisfaction and pleasure. Casually, I cause the assortment of mortal food on the table to vanish. I am barely noticed. Ambrosia, as well as being the best-tasting substance known to the universe, also fills one up super quickly. Within minutes, the entire family was full to bursting.

"That was good," George sighs, "where did you get this?"

"It's a customary food while someone leaves my school for a quest," I lie smoothly, "it's not meant for wizards: if you ate more than you just did, you would explode."

"Why's that?" Harry asks. "Easy," I begin, "they've been enchanted to be… superfoods essentially. A single bite of this is equivalent to 1000 morsels of… regular food, and with… 5000 times the taste." Luckily, Ethan educated me on how mortals work so I'd go incognito easier, but I never expected for that knowledge to be used in this case.

Harry frowns, but cautiously accepts what I'm saying as truth. He cracks a smile at me, which I hesitantly return.

Molly Weasley clears her throat. "Now that we've had our dinner, thanks to that fine gentleman sitting over there," she points at me, "let's escort him to his room for the night. We'll be going to Diagon Alley tomorrow. He'll be sleeping with Harry and Ron. I'll magick a bed for him."

She turns towards me. "Have you any luggage?"

I shake my head no. Then, as an afterthought, I tell her not to mind me: I can take care of myself. She nods, seemingly pleased. Ron beckons me to follow him to his room for the night. I gladly oblige: the shifts in power level over the past few hours left me drained for the first time in several centuries.

After getting settled in with Ron and Harry, I lie down on the bed, which immediately begins creaking under my weight. Harry hears this and chortles. "It usually happens the first time you lie down: the bed needs to get used to your weight," he informs me.

I thank him.

"No problem," he says, drawing his wand. " _Nox."_

The lights within the room gets extinguished, engulfing it in darkness: pitch black for mortals, although I personally can still see a bit.I try to fall asleep, hesitantly closing my eyes. After what seems like half a minute, I am jarred awake by a strange sound above me.

At first, I thought it was a very small Laistrygonian Giant giving birth. I am about to jump up and see what in the name of Tartarus was going on, when I remember it is the ordinary sound of a mortal sleeping. I sigh and shake my head. Stupid mortals and their disgusting habits. First it is the tendency of eating dead things, and then it's the propensity to make disgusting noises while they sleep. I believe they call it "snoring".

I again try to get some rest, but every time I begin drifting off, either Harry or Ron would make another disgusting noise and I would be again jarred awake. Finally, after what seems like a few hours, the noises stop. They've probably transitioned into the deeper sleep phase, wherein they do not snore that frequently.

I am again drifting off when suddenly, I feel a tiny nudge in the back of my head. Groaning softly, I direct my attention to it. Incipiently, I thought it was Chaos or Hecate trying to communicate to me, but when I look further, I judge the presence to be extremely weak. No way this is anything more powerful than a demigod. Curious to who would try to contact me, however, I focus on the presence.

I let myself fall into a lucid-dreaming state. For a moment, the presence doesn't show me anything but darkness. Soon, though, a dark outline of a bald figure reveals itself. Groaning, I raise my eyebrows. I need sleep, and this prick picked the wrong time to bother me.

"Who in the name of Tartarus are you?" I demand, "Who are you to interrupt my much coveted sleep?"

The figure chuckles. "Ah, a bold one, are you, little wizard?" it rasps, stepping into the light. I don't know what he meant to portray in his dramatic reveal, but I'm not impressed. All I see is a super pale bald white dude with no nose.

I burst into laughter. He looks like a dracaena had a baby with an empousa, and then spray-painted white.

The _thing_ frowns. "What's so funny, _boy?_ " it says. Now he's starting to sound like a Hunter. I laugh even louder.

The thing begins snarling. "Oh, puny youngling, you would find Lord Voldemort _anything_ but funny"

I shake my head, mentally facepalming. _This_ is the man I must guard Harry from? Well, the first task would be a cakewalk.

Still laughing, I turn my attention away from the presence, and fall into a very relaxing sleep.


	4. IV

When I wake up, dawn still hadn't completely set in. I can see Apollo's golden rays peeking through the horizon. Hopefully, he doesn't see me.

I spring out of bed, expecting the family to berate me for my lateness. Usually, I expect my army to begin training at the onset of dawn, requiring them to wake up and get ready hours before that.

Monsters and Titans don't need to sleep.

Softly cursing in ancient Greek, I scramble out of the room, expecting to see a dozen mortals, of all beings, staring at me, astounded at how late a titan lord could be. I had already formulated an excuse when I stop dead in my tracks.

The table was empty. No jeering twins, no disapproving matron, and no ruined reputation. I sigh in relief. Protecting Harry just got a whole lot easier.

I sit down at the table and conjure a platter of ambrosia. As I munch on it, I reflect on what had come to pass in the past few days. Within the span of 3 days, I manage to hit myself really hard, grab the attention of Lady Chaos, and be teleported into a strange, and frankly disgusting, new world, where I have to reenact Hercules to get myself out of.

Sighing in contrition, I continue to snack on ambrosia, willing it to fill me up only slightly in anticipation of Mrs Weasley's morning meal.

It had been over half a mortal hour before I finally hear stumbling down the steps. I frown. Dawn had already broken: golden rays of sunlight are now shining brightly over the horizon, illuminating the hills on which the Weasley residence sat. I raise my eyebrows, expecting either the two blithering redheaded twins or the bumbling duo of Ron and Harry.

Instead, what I see is a middle-aged woman staggering down the steps, seemingly half-awake, mumbling something indiscernible about "Arthur". She stops short when she sees me and squeaks, surprised.

"Oh my," she hastily says, "you woke up quite early today. I am just fixing to make breakfast for the family! Would you rather have sausage or waffles?" Before waiting for my reply, she whips out her wand and begins muttering. Pots and pans begin flying through the room, some banging along the walls with a shower of sparks. A fork whips by my head, mere centimetres from impaling itself through my temple.

Seemingly oblivious to that occurrence, she continues whipping her wand about, all while humming cheerfully. A crash resonates throughout the house, signifying that one of the pots just rammed into a wall, hard. "Oh!" Molly Weasley starts, "That was startling, my apologies, Vincent. It's practically impossible to control these pots all at once without a little… accident, like the one you just witnessed."

I sigh. If she was just a regular mortal, I would have vaporized her on the spot. Unfortunately, she is part of the key to getting me out of this intolerable world: turning her into a hypercharged pile of ashes would do nought to help me regain my full power.

"It's quite alright," I halfheartedly reassure her. Getting within her good favour would definitely help with my quests: if she trusts me, the family will trust me.

She smiles. "You're a very mature young man," she says to me, "I wish my sons are like that." I study her face. The skin around her eyes crinkles sharply when she smiles, highly unusual for a woman her age. She must have been through a lot. Then again, she does have seven children. I rub the space between my eyebrows: the wizards are even more confusing than average mortals, and that's saying a lot.

While Molly Weasley continues making breakfast, I quickly strategize how I would face my missions. The fates were relatively ambiguous, even to their standards; all of the instruction I gleaned from them can be boiled down to "protect Potter from a deformed wizard, or you'll be consigned to a fate of eternal suffering." I suppose Lady Chaos had-

My thought chain is interrupted by a flash of green light from the fireplace. I instinctively grasp my watch, fingers hovering over the crown which I knew, if pressed, would transform into a deadly yet elegant scythe- and also into a dead giveaway of my identity, furthermore complicating the already complex mission. I refrain from activating my scythe in the nick of time: a quite harmless looking teenage girl steps from the fireplace.

She beams brightly at Mrs Weasley, who returns the gesture. Then, she turns to me and quizzically raises her eyebrows. "I'm Hermione Granger," she introduces in a pleasant South London accent, "who are you?"

I blink. "Hurt-My-Knee Strange-r," I slowly repeat. First, a girl with an extremely strange name nonchalantly jumps out of a fireplace; compound it with the prevalence of stick-waving and bizarre politics, and you would have successfully created the weirdest society I have ever seen- and as a seven millennia-old Titan, that's saying a lot.

Hurt-My-Knee lightly giggles. "No," she says, "Her-Moi-Nee is how you pronounce it. The name's pretty common nowadays, you should know it. Say, where are you from?"

I gulp. Suddenly, my throat feels dry.

I clear my throat and adopt a smooth veneer, disguising the mix of confusion and fear under. There is no way this can be true. This bushy-brown haired teenage witch cannot be the Hermione; however, there is no alternative explanation. This is too good a coincidence to put down; the Fates are notorious for inserting cruel twists into their quests. No way this is pure luck. She has to be the Hermione; daughter of Menelaus and Helen, and most importantly-

-my first and only mortal lover.

"Hermione," I rasp, "you should be dead."

 **A/N (this is one of the** ** _very_** **few times in where there will be A/N's. These are paramount to the understanding of the story. I usually don't post these unless there is something important to say, and this is one of those times.)**

 **First off, I regret the fact that I wasn't able to post during the last month. School started, and the workload got intense pretty quickly. This is one of the few reprieves that I will get from harsh high school life; as much as I loathe to admit, high school and life, in general, takes priority over a fantasy writing website. I'll try to update more frequently now that I am beginning to adjust to my workload, however, don't expect much: once every two weeks would probably be the best I can do whilst juggling extracurriculars and homework. Sorry about that.**

 **Secondly and** ** _MOST IMPORTANTLY, THIS STORY IS NOW_** ** _BRANCHING OFF_**

 _ **I plan to include different viewpoints/POVs into this general plotline, apart from simply Kronos, so readers aren't chained to one specific POV: instead, they will further understand and "see-through" the plot. However, unlike other writers, I won't congregate all the viewpoints into a single story (which totally ruins the sense of surprise and tension); instead, I'm creating multiple and separate stories, with each revolving off of this plotline, albeit with different viewpoints.**_

 _ **IF YOU WANT TO CONTINUE READING IN KRONOS/LUKE'S VIEWPOINT, KEEP READING THIS STORY. THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE POSTED IN DUE TIME!**_

 _ **HARRY'S VIEWPOINT: Resurgemus (available on my profile by 10/20/17)**_

 _ **HERMIONE'S VIEWPOINT: Caelestibus (available on my profile by 10/20/17)**_

 ** _PERCY'S VIEWPOINT: Afosiosi (available on my profile by 10/25/17)_**

 ** _JASON'S VIEWPOINT: Officium (available on my profile by 11/01/17)_**

 ** _OTHER VIEWPOINTS COMING SOON!_**


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